The Skarlette One

Jane Bound, British secret agent Eta, had been running across rooftops for half an hour before she was certain she had lost her pursuers-. Winded, she found an alcove between chimneys where she could sit unobserved to catch her breath and reflect on where the mission had been compromised.

Leaning against the sun-warmed slate, Bound remembered that the first sign that she had been identified was after she’d already pocketed the hard drive and was on her way out. The sealed doors and pink gas billowing from the ventilation ducts had started without warning. In the 90 seconds it had taken Bound to shatter the bulletproof window with the heel of her shoe, she’d certainly inhaled a lungful of the gas, not to mention the amount she’d absorbed through her skin. It hadn’t seemed to have any negative effects so far. Bound rubbed her bare feet, scratched and sore from running across rooftops without shoes.

The footrub felt amazing, reminding Bound of all the other ways her body paid the price for her adventurous career. Sliding her hand under her blouse, Bound massaged her shoulder that had caught the edge of a roof at a bad angle. She moaned as the endorphin rush washed over her.

How had they spotted her? Was it the clothes? She’d need to change them anyway before she took to the street. Bound slipped out of her clothes and lay back on the warm slate. The touch of the stone, the sun, and her own hands was intoxicating. Soon, Bound’s cries of passion echoed from the rooftops as she rubbed herself to climax after climax.

By the time the enemy agents surrounded her, the seduction gas had done its work: Jane Bound’s need for pleasure had gone through the roof.

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